


sladick shenanigans

by Nerd_of_Camelot



Category: DCU
Genre: Attempted manipulation, Batfamily Drama (DCU), Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Bruce Wayne Has Issues, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Dick Grayson Has Issues, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Good Slade Wilson, I'm Bad At Titles, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd is a Batfamily Member, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Slade Wilson, Sort Of, title probably going to change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:54:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26489758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerd_of_Camelot/pseuds/Nerd_of_Camelot
Summary: “It’s no fun if you’re simply wrapped around my finger like this,” Slade lamented.And Dick had been expecting this from day one.What he hadn’t expected was being able to tell that Slade had itjust as fucking bad.And all Dick could say, breathlessly, was,"I’mwrapped aroundyourfinger? Really?”"Slade, you would doanythingfor me. Anything. And you'd never ask for anything in return. Are you telling me you seriously thought, all this time, that you were the only one playing this game?"--ORSlade and Dick met back up during a job, and Slade may have started with intent to convince Dick to come back to his side... But somewhere along the line, the tables turned, and somehow Slade has ended up the one who can't say no to Dick.And the worst part is probably that, while they're both completely aware of this and Slade has long-since made peace with the fact that he'll do anything Dick asks without hesitation, Dick always feelsguiltywhen he uses it to his advantage. But there are some things, Slade guesses, that you just can't expect people like Dick to be okay with.Emotional manipulation is one of them.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Roy Harper/Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Roy Harper & Jason Todd
Comments: 8
Kudos: 145





	sladick shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, full disclosure, I rarely write Slade! This is also my first time writing Slade/Dick as a pairing instead of just as a team up or a boss/lackey dynamic, so it's probably not like, the greatest it could have been? But someone who left me some feedback indicated they'd like to see some of this ship and I've been dying for a reason to write "bastard soft for one person" ships and "character who will put their s/o above everything else, greater good be damned" ships, and their usual dynamic (at least as I write it) left a lot of openings for it to turn romantic, so this happened
> 
> I never decided how old Slade is in this fic! But Dick ranges from about early-to-mid-20s over the course of it so there is NO part of this where Dick is underage and I can guarantee Slade wasn't interested until after Dick was in his twenties.
> 
> This was originally going to be a oneshot a la "Bishops Knife Trick" or "drown a wasted life", told through a few short pieces over the course of a couple of years (in the story) until I felt comfortable finishing it off, but it got split up because the first part ended up being _eleven thousand words long_ and I still had a lot of story to tell, lol
> 
> There may end up being more than just two parts too! So be on the lookout for that

Dick hadn’t seen Slade in a good two years when he finally ran into the man again on a mission, and he’d expected a lot of things during that meeting… But not what happened.

Not the suddenly interested and distracted way Slade kept eyes on him even while they were fighting other people, or the way Slade swiftly moved to help him when he got into a pinch. Not Slade gripping him by the chin and stroking a thumb over his cheek when the fight was over and commenting on how well he’d handled it. Not Slade sliding him his number and insisting they stay in touch this time around.

And he really, _really_ wasn’t expecting the contact and the offer of his number and staying in touch to cause the reaction it did.

He wasn’t expecting his body to go absolutely fucking buck-wild over being touched by someone who he didn’t consider to be family or a particularly huge threat to his safety… Although he probably _should_ consider Slade the second option.

To get straight to the point, though―he wasn’t expecting to pop a boner over the whole ordeal.

But that was what happened.

And the first thing he did, past making sure it wasn’t visible while he was on his way home, was try to rationalize the reaction. Surely it was just a matter of not having much physical touch from anyone who wasn’t family or an enemy in the last couple of years? Surely it was just that Slade was incredibly capable in a fight and he’d always admired capable fighters? Surely it wasn’t anything else but those things.

Surely.

… And yet, arriving in his apartment, cock throbbing against the cup in his suit from nothing but a brief touch, he was too frustrated with himself for reasoning to matter much, anyway. And he was too frustrated to pretend it wasn’t because he kind of sort of thought that Slade was hot when he wasn’t wearing that stupid suit… Which he definitely _didn’t_ know solely from having snooped and found the guy’s military records.

Definitely.

He grumbled to himself, displeased, and rubbed one out right there in his living room to the still faintly-tingling feeling of having had Slade’s hand on his face.

Maybe if he just let it happen and then let it go, it wouldn’t ever have to mean anything and no one would ever have to know.

* * *

Inevitably, he had to use the number Slade had given him―Bludhaven was dangerous, and there were plenty of cases he had to call in backup on even under normal circumstances. But with things pretty busy in Gotham, no relationship to speak of with the recently returned Jason or with his once-upon-a-time friends Roy and Kori, and literally _no other nearby contacts,_ he didn’t really have a choice but to specifically call Slade on this one. Even if the help he got was as simple as Slade promising not to make things worse until it was dealt with.

 _“You called awfully quickly,”_ Slade joked, from the other end of the line, and it had been nearly three months since they’d seen each other last.

“Har har,” Dick rolled his eyes in response, feeling his lips quirk up. He’d always had too easy of a relationship with Slade. Always had chemistry with him, back and forth with him, that was too _good_ given their history. “Listen, you know I hate beating around the bush with this stuff and I know that you know what’s going on here in Bludhaven right now…”

 _“Is this a request for me to stay out of your way, my little Robin?”_ Slade still sounded amused, which was good.

Dick sighed, regardless, “If you can’t or won’t offer any help, yes.”

He could almost feel the surprise, and he wished he could see it―but, also, he wished he didn’t have to resort to this. If he even just had Jason’s number he was sure the guy would come fucking _running_ to help him bust a major drug ring, especially if he promised to look the other way about any deaths, but… No. He had to call Slade.

 _“... You feel in over your head enough to ask for my assistance?”_ Was what Slade finally asked, almost sounding a little charmed, _“Don’t you have siblings and a Batman to ask about these sorts of things?”_

Dick shifted, uncomfortable at having to ask for help _at all,_ as usual, and surprised there wasn’t more discomfort than there was. Shouldn’t asking Slade feel like asking Bruce? Or _worse_ than that?

Hm.

“Regrettably one of my brothers hates all of us, and all of my other siblings and Batman are… Indisposed. Or otherwise unable to help.” Dick sighed again. “And I’m sure you’re busy, as well. If you have any help you can offer, I’d appreciate it, but if not I’d appreciate if you could just… Not be a problem until I’ve dealt with this.”

 _“A problem,”_ Slade scoffed, _“I’ve no intention of being any more of a problem to you than you are to me, I assure you. But I may have some information that could be of use to you. I’ll send it over.”_

“Thanks, Slade.”

_“Of course, my little Robin.”_

The line went dead, and Dick sighed once more before setting his phone down. That had been… Surprisingly painless. Not that he wasn’t sure Slade would expect something in return, but still. He hadn’t even had to beg or bribe him at all. He’d just… Agreed.

Even Bruce didn’t give in that easily when he asked for help.

But Bruce expected a _lot_ more of him than Slade did, in general, so he guessed he shouldn’t be so surprised. Bruce expected him to be able to handle himself and sort himself out and, hopefully, know when he really needed help. Slade just… Expected him to be able to handle himself. He didn’t even seem bothered by Dick asking for help, like Bruce did sometimes.

… Huh.

He scrubbed his face, and his phone went off, and he… Wow. Slade had sent him the ring’s employee roster.

… He was going to owe him _big time_ for this. He just knew it.

* * *

Admitting to a furious Bruce a month later that he’d had Slade’s help getting rid of the drug ring in Bludhaven and _that_ was why he hadn’t called Bruce for backup was nerve-wracking beyond all belief.

Watching Bruce’s face turn surprised, then confused, then furious again was worse, and the fact that Tim and (for some reason) Jason were there watching with hiked brows was just the cherry on top of what was sure to be a shit-sundae supreme.

“You had help from _Deathstroke?”_ Bruce blustered.

And Dick felt something prickle at him, something old and frigid―an anger he’d tried to shove down as far as he could _years_ ago because getting into fights with Bruce never got him anywhere good―that made his own passive face turn into a scowl.

He didn’t mean to raise his voice when he replied, irritated, “As if _you’ve_ never accepted help from a fucking villain. Don’t pull the high-and-mighty card with _me,_ Bruce, I’ve seen you at your _worst.”_

He wasn’t sure if it was Tim, Jason, or Bruce who gasped in surprise.

But he knew that look of absolute, untamed fury on Bruce’s face.

It was a rare one, one he saw almost as infrequently as he saw Jason, but he knew it. He knew he’d said the wrong thing.

It was just really hard to care, was all.

Before Bruce could do more than take a breath as if to start in on a rant, Dick found himself making a face he knew was incredibly unflattering.

“Save it.” He snapped, moving to grab his motorcycle helmet off the table, “I don’t have to listen to this, Bruce, I don’t even _live with you.”_

He watched Tim and Jason share a look, and the funny part was that he knew Bruce didn’t know they were there. He was facing away from the stairs where they were. He wondered if he should bring it all crashing down around him, if he should bring him to the reality of his two other sons having seen them fight, now, and decided… Sure.

Even seeing Bruce’s face crumple a little at the snap, he knew he wouldn’t personally feel satisfied until Bruce felt worse than just a little achy in the chest from driving him off.

Nothing but putting his foot down consistently would teach Bruce to behave better.

And he’d been meaning to start doing that a long time ago.

“Sorry you two had to see that,” He called at Tim and Jason, and watched them go pale at the same second Bruce whipped his head around, before the color drained from his face as well, “If anyone needs me, you know how to contact me. Bruce, I’ll be ignoring your calls for the next day or so, so text me if it’s actually important.”

And he hopped on his bike and left the cave.

It wasn’t until he got back to his apartment that he pulled out his phone, and once there he saw nothing. No texts from Bruce, or Tim. No missed calls. And that should have felt fine, he guessed, but it… It bugged him. Shouldn’t one of them have said something by then? Even just a question about what that was from Tim would…

Ugh.

_NightWing: y’know, I was expecting you to have called me wanting me to pay you back for your help by now._

Ah, yes, texting Slade to distract himself from the ache of fighting with Bruce.

Not a bad coping mechanism at _all._

_DeathStroke: If you’re that eager to pay me back, I suppose I can arrange something._

_DS: But I wasn’t expecting repayment._

Well, hey, damn. He was distracted from the ache now, for sure.

_NW: wait, really?_

_NW: but isn’t that how this usually works?_

_NW: like, you help me and I have to pay you back?_

He sat against the counter, furrowing his brows.

_DS: Is that how it usually works with the Batman and your siblings?_

_NW: most of the time, yeah._

_NW: and you too, in the past._

_DS: Interesting. I do suppose you have a point._

_DS: Consider it a ‘freebie’, then._

Well, that certainly made a little more sense, and the fact that Slade would clearly be expecting repayment in the future was… Helpful. Definitely pulled some of the anxiety out of the situation. He’d be pretty worried if Slade just started doing things for him for free.

Unbidden, the memory of his hand on his chin made Dick shudder.

_NW: works for me_

_NW: you were right, though_

_DS: Right about what, Robin?_

_NW: we really should keep in touch._

_NW: even if it’s just like this._

Was he saying it because he was lonely? Maybe. And maybe it was unhealthy to let himself get attached to Slade, but… Well.

They already had a decent relationship.

Slade had fucked him over in the past, but he’d fucked him over in return and he was pretty sure that they were even on that front anyway. Why not get a sort of fresh start and… Maybe form an alliance? Not work together the way Slade had always wanted, not at all, but… Work together. Bludhaven could be _their_ city, not just his, and there wouldn’t be a place on Earth safer than the one under both Nightwing and Deathstroke the Terminator’s protection.

There was a long pause between that message and Slade’s reply―a long enough pause that Dick pushed off the counter and walked around his apartment twice before the reply came. He’d almost been starting to think the conversation was over and he was going to have to either reach out to Tim first or wait for Tim to contact him.

_DS: I do have a good idea or two from time to time._

_DS: You’ll be patrolling tonight, yes?_

_NW: yeah, like usual_

_DS: Then get some rest. We’ll talk later._

_NW: sure, sure_

_NW: talk to you then._

‘Get some rest’, Slade said, like Dick was going to be able to get any sleep after that.

The memory of his touch lanced through Dick again, and Dick shuddered. Shuddered harder when his brain combined the touch with how the words, ‘Get some rest’ would have sounded coming out of Slade’s mouth.

Was he really latching onto basic fucking kindness now?

He guessed so.

He had another embarrassed and displeased wank session before managing to fall asleep.

* * *

Another two months, and he woke up drooling after a dream about Slade holding him against a wall and fucking his mouth.

He couldn’t have been more frustrated and embarrassed if he tried.

The worst part was definitely how real it had felt, and how much, on waking up, he was disappointed that it _wasn’t_ real.

He turned over, acutely aware of the fact that Tim was in his apartment, and shoved his face into his pillow, canting his hips up and grabbing his cock. He suppressed any noises he would have normally made, holding his breath until he came into his hand.

That taken care of, he went to get cleaned up and get ready for tonight’s stakeout with Tim.

“Sleep okay?” Tim asked, looking like he probably hadn’t slept at all in the time he’d been here this afternoon.

Dick wouldn’t be surprised.

“Dreams are jank.” Was how he chose to respond, “You already make coffee?”

Tim hummed his agreement.

_DS: I understand you will be staking out a nearby gang tonight._

_DS: Do try to be safe, my dear Robin._

A flush crawled up his neck, as he was trying to take his first drink of coffee for the night.

_NW: I’ll do my best. more worried about the new robin, personally._

_DS: He is rather young. But you’re capable enough to watch his back as well as yours, I’m sure._

_DS: I believe in you, little Robin._

The flush crawled up further, turning him very red as he gulped down perhaps too large a drink of coffee. This was standard fare with Slade, by now. They spoke nearly once a week, and when they spoke Slade was… Oddly supportive. He was _pretty_ sure it was an attempt to stay on his good side, and, well, it was working.

_NW: i appreciate the vote of confidence_

_NW: thanks slade_

He took another swig.

_DS: Anytime._

“Who ya texting?” Tim asked as he entered the small kitchen to pour himself a new cup of coffee.

“If I tell you, you’re sworn to about seventeen layers of secrecy,” Dick replied, immediately.

Tim raised his brows, pouring his coffee as he stared at him. Finally, he said, “Okay. Lips are sealed, ‘Wing.”

And Dick didn’t doubt that, he _didn’t,_ because he trusted Tim even if Tim could be a little _bastard_ sometimes. He wouldn’t say a word unless he was pressed very hard or he genuinely felt Dick was in danger.

So Dick sighed, rubbed the back of his neck, and said, “It’s Slade.”

Tim’s eyes went wide. “You― You’re― _Deathstroke?”_ Followed closely by, _“Why are you blushing?”_

“Listen!” Dick defended, “Having someone like Slade say I’m doing well and that he trusts my abilities…”

Tim settled, understanding coming so immediately that Dick almost felt bad for his defensiveness. But he knew Tim didn’t mind―would understand why he’d gotten defensive.

“Man, wish _Bruce_ would do that more often,” Tim snorted, giving Dick that look of total understanding and lack of judgement, “If even Slade’s givin’ out compliments, Bruce has no reason to be so stingy with his.”

Dick found himself snorting.

Tim grinned.

“For what it’s worth, _I_ trust your abilities and I’m very proud of you.” He said, and watched Tim turn red.

But while Tim flushed with embarrassment at the praise, he clearly straightened his back and _preened_ as well. Looked incredibly pleased.

Was that all it took to make Tim feel better and look a little less run-down? To get a genuinely happy smile on his face?

Dick would have to compliment him and tell him he was proud of him more often.

* * *

“It’s no fun if you’re simply wrapped around my finger like this,” Slade lamented, breath ghosting over Dick’s face as he held him close and Dick’s finger’s curled into the fabric of his jacket, “If I’d known it would be this easy…”

And Dick had been expecting this from day one―had expected that Slade’s interest in him would turn out to be manipulation of some kind, no matter how genuine the interest happened to be. Had expected that Slade was trying to stay on his good side, trying to steer him back toward his side.

What he hadn’t expected was that he wasn’t at all upset.

What he hadn’t expected was being able to tell that, much as he _was_ wrapped around Slade’s finger and a slave to his own feelings for the older man―whatever those feelings really even were aside from lust―, Slade had it _just as fucking bad._ He could see it in his eye, when they worked together. Could feel it in the way he checked in on him even when the common courtesy he claimed to be operating on (and any manipulation he was actually attempting) didn’t call for it, could feel it in the _earnestness_ he had toward making sure he slept and ate and took care of himself.

Slade wasn’t easy to read. He never had been, nor would he ever be if Dick knew him at all, but there were some things he couldn’t mask and there were some things he couldn’t fake no matter how hard he tried.

Good feelings often fell into both categories. He faked them terribly, in person―got this annoyed crease in his brow when he had to play caring for someone he didn’t care for―, less terribly over text. Couldn’t mask the ones he felt very well because he seemed to think he was totally incapable of feeling them.

It was ridiculous enough that Dick felt himself laugh, even as he pulled back a little.

Slade blinked, confused.

He had expected some other kind of response, clearly.

And all Dick could say, breathlessly, was, _“I’m_ wrapped around _your_ finger? Really?”

At the narrowing of Slade’s eye, he could only laugh again.

“Slade, you would do _anything_ for me.” He said, pulling back, pulling out of his hold and watching the way he twitched at that, “Anything. And you’d never ask for anything in return. I’m not _blind,_ and neither are you. Are you telling me you seriously thought, all this time, that you were the only one playing this game?”

Slade was silent, brow creased and eye narrowed, for a long moment.

Dick took another step back, laughing to himself incredulously as he dragged a hand none-too-gently through his own hair and looked away. Repeated the motion with his other hand. Gripped the ends of his hair and tried to keep control of himself. No reason to lose it here. No reason to lose it _now._

He could hold it together.

Finally, Slade stepped back into his space, and he let him.

“You don’t seem happy about that development,” Slade said, and there was something tellingly soft under his dry tone that let Dick know Slade had very, _very_ quickly come to terms with the fact that he was right and had no intention of fighting it.

“I’m not.” He informed him, glancing at him, and Slade’s hands grabbed both of his, carefully pulling them free of his hair.

“Why not?” Slade asked, in that same tone of voice, “If I were you I’d be taking full advantage of this. You have the best mercenary in the world _wrapped around your finger._ You said yourself I’d do anything for you. Why don’t you like that?”

Dick could only stare, for a second, before another incredulous laugh left him and he forced his eyes away. “Because I’m not _you,_ Slade.” He breathed― _croaked,_ really, “I don’t exactly cherish having that much power over someone.”

Because he didn’t.

Because he was terrified of that power.

Because he was terrified of what he might do if he let himself take full advantage of having Slade totally at his disposal.

Because he was terrified of _himself_ and adding a too-willing mercenary into the mix only made it so much worse.

“And there it is,” Slade sighed, fond and exasperated and just as incredulous and irritated as Dick was starting to feel, “... That’s how you pulled me in. I’m sure of it.”

Slade’s arms wound back around him.

Dick let them.

Settled his hands back on Slade’s shoulders.

It was a comfortable position―Slade’s hands and arms cradling him, holding his back and his head and ready to catch his full weight on the off-chance he couldn’t hold himself, his own hands gripping at Slade’s jacket and ready to haul himself up if he needed to. He felt surrounded and safe in a way he hadn’t in… Well, _ever._

“You’re a grown man, mostly,” Slade uttered, almost sounding a little star-struck, “You know better. You know better than to fraternize with me. You know better than to do a lot of things, and you’re so incredibly intelligent. You’re so experienced and world-weary and angry and yet, somehow, _some way,_ you’re still so achingly gentle and innocent. You don’t want to hurt anyone if you don’t have to.” He laughed, pressing their foreheads together, “You won’t use your advantage with me because you know you’ll feel fucking _guilty_ if you actually manipulate me or ask me to do something for you.”

“... Which is where you win.” Dick sighed, glancing at him but ultimately looking away again, “... You don’t have that problem. If you can get me to do something for you…”

“See,” Slade sighed in response, “That’s the thing. Usually you’d be right.”

“Usually?” He looked to his face.

“Usually.” Slade confirmed, meeting his eyes with his one good one and giving the faintest hints of a smile, rueful though it was, “But with you… I find myself unwilling to press the advantage too far. Wouldn’t want to drive you away or break you, after all, would I?”

It wrenched a laugh―a little startled, a little disbelieving―from Dick. “Worried about what I can handle?” He teased, weakly.

“Never,” Slade replied, with so much confidence and firmness that it made Dick a little dizzy from the implications, “I know exactly what you can take… But you do still have limits, and I do try to stay within them.”

That made Dick a little dizzy too.

His voice was a little choked, face turning red, as he hesitantly said, “You know, Tim and I joked about how you were more liberal with compliments than Bruce is. I wasn’t expecting you to be better at respecting my boundaries than he is _too.”_

“Especially given our past, I’d imagine,” The mercenary sort of smirked, seeming mostly unbothered by the admission. He pulled one hand up, cupping Dick’s cheek and chin in his palm and Dick couldn’t even summon enough fight to resist leaning into the touch and closing his eyes. “... So, my little Robin. What shall we do about this?”

“I’m not sure,” He admitted.

“Surely no matter what you choose, Bruce will not be happy to find you fraternizing with me any more than you have to for your work.”

“... You say that like I’m the only one choosing.” Dick sighed, “And, also, like I give a shit if Bruce is happy about it.”

Slade chuckled.

And he held him, and they didn’t really talk a whole lot more after that. They just stood and Dick tried to enjoy the time, the touch, because he knew, inevitably, he was going to go home to his Bludhaven apartment alone.

* * *

The last three weeks had been _exhausting_ on levels that Dick didn’t even have words for.

First the discovery that Damian Wayne al-Ghul existed, then the immediate gut-punch of Jason already knowing, then having to _deal_ with the kid and the way he treated Dick and Tim like absolute _shit_ while parading around a grudging respect for his father and a far more obvious one for Jason… Not to mention all the _other_ shit that had happened on top of that, while he was having to deal with the kid. And now Bruce expected him to just… Take care of the kid? Like he wasn’t just as busy as Bruce was?

“I’m not here for you to dump your fucking bastard kid on!” Dick found himself yelling, because Bruce had started yelling five minutes ago after Dick had initially said no, and he reveled in the way that Bruce jerked sharply, visibly taken aback, “I’m not even fucking here for _you,_ Bruce, I’m here because _Tim_ asked me to come! I have a city to be taking care of, and you know what? I think it’s high time you fucking raised a kid on your own anyway instead of dumping them off on someone else.”

“You―”

“Go fuck yourself!” He snapped, before Bruce could get any further, “And remember the condom this time, you piece of shit.”

And he swept out of the Cave, stomach dropping through his shoes even as he was riding his bike out the entrance, because he’d caught sight of his brothers watching, all pale. Were they just all going to show up every time he fought with Bruce?

It made him sick to think about.

He yanked his phone out of his pocket going 90 on the freeway back to Bludhaven, silencing the call he was receiving from Tim and refraining, if only barely, from chucking his phone into traffic. He was just― God, he hadn’t left actually feeling this angry in years. Not since Bruce had fired him the first time. He was still _fuming._ Furious.

He wasn’t even sure what he was angry about, because he knew it was a lot of things just… Compounded together.

And he wasn’t angry at Tim, or at Jason, or Cass or Babs.

He was angry at Bruce and Damian and Talia and about a thousand other people.

No point punishing Tim for Bruce being a fucking idiot.

When the call cut off, going to voicemail, he unlocked his phone and, despite how dangerous he knew it was, typed out a text to Tim without slowing down, weaving in and out of traffic as he went.

_NW: Too soon. Let me calm down._

Tim would understand. He knew sometimes Dick just needed a little time. He knew what it was like to get really pissed off and just want to be left alone in the aftermath. He knew.

And he proved it by sending a thumbs up emoji and nothing else in response to the text.

_NW: I’ll call you._

Another thumbs up, and Dick was shoving his phone back into his pocket as he left the freeway at last, coming into Bludhaven. He tried to breathe, tried to calm down―he hadn’t even gotten any relief out of purposely endangering his own life by going _fucking 90_ and weaving through other vehicles and _texting_. Usually that helped.

But not today.

He came to a stop outside of his apartment building and more or less jumped off the bike, heading upstairs with shaking hands. He knew, he _knew_ that after a fight like that, after he called Bruce on his bullshit _again_ , the likelihood of Bruce coming to confront him here in his apartment was high. He could go to a safehouse instead, but Bruce knew the location of most of his safehouses.

But he wasn’t just going to sit here and wait for Bruce to come picking another fight.

If Bruce showed up here, alone, while he was still steaming? It wasn’t going to be a shouting match. And he just… Didn’t want to deal with that.

He shoved some of his shit into a duffel bag―more gadgets and his suit than any casual clothes, because he’d probably be in costume a _lot_ for the next several days until he calmed down and was fairly certain Bruce wasn’t waiting at his apartment for him―, scrawled a note to Bruce that more or less amounted to a great big, summative ‘fuck yourself and get out of my apartment’ and left it on the table, and more or less stomped back down the stairs to his bike. There was some thug on the other side of the street eyeing it appreciatively, but he paid the guy little mind as he swung his leg over it, started it, and took off into the cramped streets of Bludhaven.

He yanked his phone out of his pocket again, straight-up declining the call from Bruce that had just started ringing, and opened his message history with Slade.

_NW: what safehouse are you at_

The response was nearly instant.

_DS: The one down by the docks in Bludhaven. Why?_

“Perfect,” Dick muttered, altering his course.

He didn’t answer the text.

He just pulled up to the safehouse and made his way in.

Slade looked… Surprised to see him, to say the least, given it had been two minutes since his text and that usually wasn’t long enough for Dick to respond, let alone _show up in person._ But he took in the duffel bag on his shoulder, the vice grip on the handlebars of his bike as he walked it to the spot reserved for it since he and Slade had always shared their Bludhaven safehouses, and he frowned without asking any questions. He seemed to understand that something must have happened.

“Can I―” Dick cut himself off with a huff, unable to even look at Slade, “... You mind if I stick around to bug you for a while?”

“Of course I don’t,” Slade said, almost instinctively, “What happened?”

Dick groaned, and Slade’s wince indicated he understood that meant he wasn’t getting a straight answer to that question. At least not yet.

Dick didn’t move from his bike’s side, still gripping the handlebars and frankly a little afraid to let go of them. Usually he’d have at least stepped into the main safehouse by now, but… If he let go of these handlebars he felt like he was going to do something stupid.

Like punch Slade in the face even though he didn’t deserve it and wasn’t at all the person that Dick was angry with.

But inevitably, Slade came to him. Pried his hands off the handlebars and pulled him into an embrace. Slade was costumed, mostly, missing only his mask, so it wasn’t quite as comfortable as the last time they’d held each other. But Dick didn’t care. He just wrapped tight arms around Slade’s shoulders and pressed his face into an armored collarbone.

And through that, Slade eventually managed to coax him into the main area of the safehouse.

Managed to pull him onto a beat up old couch with him.

Dick curled against him, feeling sort of pathetic for how easily he went along with it, how vulnerable he felt right now, but… Against his better judgement, he trusted Slade not to do anything about this. He trusted him to not take advantage of it, either because of a sense of honor or because of his weird and unwavering care for him.

And Slade didn’t press the issue. He just held him.

And finally, pathetic feelings bled back into annoyance and he pressed himself closer to the armored man.

“He has a fucking _son.”_ He spat, squeezing his eyes shut, “Bruce has a fucking _bastard son.”_

Slade went very still.

Dick pressed on through gritted teeth, “He wanted me to fucking take care of the little demon _brat._ Like it’s _my_ job to raise his kids. Like he didn’t just fucking dump me on Alfred the whole time I actually needed raising. Like I’m not fucking _just as busy_ as he is.” He shuddered hard, trying to push his anger out through his words instead of getting physical about it, even if Slade wouldn’t think twice about sparring with him to get the tension out, because he didn’t think fighting was going to help, “And that’s not even fucking _touching_ on the fact that the little _shit_ has been nothing but fucking disrespectful to me since we _met_ and, _fuck,_ I don’t hurt kids but _boy did I want to smack the shit out of him._ Like it even fucking _matters_ that he’s Bruce’s _biological son._ Like that really makes him so fucking _special.”_

Slade squeezed him, gently, and Dick realized at about that moment that he hadn’t stopped shuddering after what was supposed to be one strong attempt to throw off any physical reactions.

And he realized, at about that moment, why he was so angry.

Dick was Bruce’s oldest kid, his first son. The one he trusted to get shit done even if they argued about the how and the why. The one he’d trained as a contingency plan just in case things went sideways. He was supposed to be the perfect one. The important one.

And now Bruce had a _real_ son. Not an adopted one.

And Dick hadn’t been the ‘perfect’ son in _years._

It was the crushing reality of being replaced _all over again,_ except this time it was by someone who had every right to push him out of his spot. It was by Bruce’s _actual son._

And, unlike when it was Jason and Tim, the _kid knew exactly what he was muscling in on._

Dick choked down a sob and pulled away from Slade to scrub the tears away before they could get much further than his lashes. He would _not_ break down about this.

Slade watched him, carefully, face mostly unreadable.

“... You feel replaced,” He finally guessed, “Which I suppose is understandable. But were you not the one Bruce actually _chose?”_

The smooth, cold tone and the matter-of-fact execution of the words, surprisingly enough, stopped everything around him right where it was. Everything stopped feeling like it was spinning out of control. Stopped the tears and cut off a sob before it could start.

He blinked.

“And,” Slade continued, unbothered, “Regardless of Bruce… Did _I_ not choose you? Surely both of us picking you counts for more than his ‘demon brat’ having even been born.”

Dick found his lips quirking up even as he scrubbed at his face again with his sleeves.

“You sure know how to calm a guy down,” He joked, dryly, voice still coming out a little choked.

At that, Slade cracked a faint smile.

“I do not cherish seeing you upset,” He said, with a mild shrug, “And if I can offer something genuine that will help…”

Dick laughed a little bit. “You’re probably busy,” He said, to change the subject, “Sorry to interrupt with my blubbering.”

“It’s not a time-sensitive contract,” Slade replied with a wave of his hand, “Your ‘blubbering’ has interrupted nothing important, and you clearly needed a chance to blubber.”

Slade opened his arms, inviting him back into them with no further talk of any of his business, and Dick felt… Kind of weak, but ultimately resigned and comfortable, when he almost immediately moved to re-occupy the space he’d previously been in. If comfort was being offered, he wasn’t strong enough to say no to it… Especially from Slade.

Slade pressed a kiss to his forehead, some immeasurable time later, and uttered, “You’ll be here for the next several days, yes?”

“Yeah.” Dick glanced up at him, feeling… Tired.

Slade nodded, “Very well. I’d best get this contract out of the way, then.”

And as Dick had been wrapped up in his arms and half-sitting in his lap for probably three hours by then, he was far less averse to the idea than he was earlier. Sure, he was going to be a little grumpy for a while at having the warmth and comfort taken from him, but Slade was a busy man and he knew that. He wasn’t a child. He could take the comfort he’d gotten so far and be satisfied with it, because frankly? It was more than he’d gotten in a long time from anyone but his siblings and the Titans, and it was hard to come by even from them.

So he peeled himself away from Slade, scrubbing at his face because he was… Very sleepy, surprisingly. “Yeah, yeah, go for it. Don’t let me stop you.”

Slade chuckled. Hooked a finger under his chin and tilted his head up. “Get some rest while I’m gone, little Robin. You look exhausted.”

Dick only managed to hum, feeling warm all of a sudden, breath catching in his throat.

“... Something wrong?” Slade half-cocked his head.

“Can I kiss you?” Dick blurted, in response.

Slade stilled, blinking. But then, carefully, he said, “If that’s what you want, little Robin.”

And it was, had been for a _while,_ so Dick swallowed and leaned in closer, savoring the warmth of Slade’s touch and the soft way he told him to rest as he let his eyes slip closed. He knew he was trembling a little, breathing shallow, and he knew that must seem an awful lot like him _not_ wanting this, but…

He did.

He did want this.

He was just… Understandably nervous about what this would mean, going forward.

But he brushed his lips against Slade’s carefully and decided, at about that second, that he didn’t really care. If Slade took advantage of this, well… Shame on him. Dick would find a way to get back at him, regardless, because he was weak for him but he wasn’t stupid or defenseless.

He pressed in a little more firmly, felt himself stop shaking as he curled his fingers over Slade’s shoulders. He breathed out a slow, measured breath. Breathed one back in.

Dragged careful lips over Slade’s.

And Slade shuddered, grip on his chin, so far unbothered, temporarily tightening. But he didn’t kiss back. He sat there like a statue.

Something squeezed in Dick’s chest as he pulled back, dislodging Slade’s hand as he went.

“Do you not…?” He trailed, feeling self-conscious all over again, stomach twisting.

Slade blinked.

Blinked again.

“Oh, little Robin.” He sighed, reaching out to cup his chin again, pulling him closer once more, “Of course I do.”

But he didn’t kiss him. He kept him just out of reach of his lips and watched him.

And Dick, at least, could tell he wasn’t lying. He _did_ want to kiss him back. He _did_ feel something similar, if not the same thing. But that didn’t mean it didn’t make him feel self-conscious.

Finally, with a soft sigh, Dick gently pushed closer again.

Slade’s grip on his chin stayed soft.

He pressed their lips together again, and Slade sighed in return before finally, _finally_ moving his lips with Dick’s. And Dick felt warm. Happy.

He carefully wound an arm around Slade’s shoulders again, keeping him close while Slade did the same to him.

But finally, Slade pulled back.

Dick let him.

And Slade gave him one of those soft looks, pressed a kiss to his forehead as he got up from the couch. “If I don’t go now, I probably never will.”

Dick laughed, a little. “Yeah, yeah, go on. I’ll be here.”

After he was gone for the night, which took another fifteen or so minutes, Dick withdrew his silenced phone from his pocket, dreading how many missed texts and calls he probably had from Bruce. Even Tim was probably starting to get concerned, since it had been more than three hours without Dick calling him, and Dick usually calmed down enough to talk _way_ faster.

He had several missed calls and texts from Bruce, as expected. Four messages from two unknown numbers. And only two messages from Tim despite how long it had been.

_R: listen i know you need time but i’m a little worried?_

_[An hour ago]_

_R: N, roy says he saw you doing like 90 on the freeway please just tell me you’re ok_

He winced.

Checked the other messages.

Bruce’s were pretty much what he expected―where did you go, what are you doing, answer your phone. He ignored them, aside from sending a simple ‘fuck off’, and moved on.

_Unknown: y’know I’ve never heard you actually yell at bruce before dickie_

_Unknown: little freaked out, tbh. you good?_

Only Jason and Roy ever called him ‘Dickie’, and he had Roy’s number courtesy of an accidental dick pic from four months ago and an immediate apology and the assurance he was trying to send that to someone else.

So he renamed the unknown number to _Red Hood._

_NW: I’m fine, little wing._

Then, the other unknown number.

_U: You respond with incredible hostility when Father asks things of you._

_U: As you have been with Father the longest, however, I imagine you likely had a very good point and a good reason. Cheers, Grayson, I’m glad to know you have a spine after all._

Ugh.

Damian.

He named the contact _Demon Brat_ and moved on. He didn’t have what it took to come up with a good response to that right now.

He called Tim.

_“Dick? Are you okay? Where are―”_

“One question at a time, baby bird.” Dick sighed, cutting him off. “I’m fine. I’m in a safehouse. Not leaving for a while.”

He heard Tim take a deep breath, _“Right, right, okay. Were you really―”_

“Doing 90 on the freeway? More or less.”

_“Dick…”_

“I know.”

_“You won’t vanish on me?”_

“Not this time.”

_“... Okay.”_

“Love you, baby bird. Promise. I’m just…”

 _“No, no, I know. Bruce is… Yeah. I get it.”_ Tim seemed to sigh, taking another deep breath, _“Are you with… You know who?”_

He felt himself flush a little. “I might be. I might not. It’s definitely one of his safehouses and not one of mine.”

 _“Of course,”_ Tim laughed, _“Bruce doesn’t know where any of those are.”_

In the background, he heard someone else, _“―to Dickiebird?”_

_“Yeah, it’s him. He’s okay.”_

_“You sure? Text came off pretty flat.”_

_“Yeah, he’s just in a mood, Jason.”_

“Do I hear you getting along with Jaybird?”

_“I wouldn’t call it getting along. More like we’re mutually worried about you and mad at Bruce so we’re unionizing.”_

_“Unionizing,”_ He heard Jason repeat, descending into snickers.

“Just be careful, okay?” He said, “Bruce is mad enough at _me.”_

 _“Yeah, yeah. He’ll get over it or he’ll be stuck with the brat all by himself.”_ Tim said, not at all bothered, _“He can take Robin from me all he wants but in the end the only one he’ll hurt is him. I can come up with something.”_

“Didn’t you become Robin because you were worried about him?”

 _“He’s got the brat.”_ Was the dismissive response, _“And we have you and Jason, so if Bruce loses it I think we’ll have it taken care of.”_

“... You’ve given some thought to this.”

_“Of course. Gotta have a backup plan if things go sideways.”_

He let himself laugh a little. “Smart kid,” He commented, and he could almost feel the way that the kid started beaming, “I should hit the hay, though. So should you, you probably have work to be doing tonight.”

 _“Yeah, yeah.”_ Tim sighed, _“Sleep well, okay? I’ll try to if you do.”_

“Of course. Night kiddo.”

_“Night, ‘Wing.”_

And once the call ended he sat back on the couch a little. Sat his phone down in his lap and ignored the new texts from Bruce. Took a breath.

_RH: dont do anything i wouldnt dickie_

_RH: and try to actually sleep, k?_

He snorted―of course, of _course_ all it took to have Jason back on his side, back with him, was getting into not one, not two, but at least six fights with Bruce in the time since he came back two years ago.

And of course the one that officially got him back on his side was one where he told Bruce to go fuck himself, and don’t forget the condom.

_NW: i make no promises_

_NW: you should sleep too._

He moved to his messages with Slade.

_NW: heading to bed, see you when you get back or in the morning_

_DS: I’ll see you then, little Robin._

And he got up, stripping off his jacket and his shoes and kicking off his pants as soon as he got into the bedroom. Usually he’d sleep on the couch while Slade was here, but… No reason to be a coward. If Slade chose to sleep on the couch this time instead of sleeping in the bed with him, he’d understand, but he wasn’t going to go out of his way, personally, to avoid where this was probably going to lead in the end anyway.

_DS: Rest well._

_NW: I’ll try._

He climbed into bed, curled up, and fell asleep.

The next morning, he awoke to someone pressed up against his back with their arm looped around him. He knew it had to be Slade.

And he felt… At ease.

He pressed back, feeling a strong, broad chest against his shoulderblades. Slade was… _Very warm._ Dick almost wanted to just go back to sleep, if he was honest.

He probably could have, if Slade hadn’t shifted, pulling him tightly against him and tucking his head next to his.

“Awake now, little Robin?” He asked, voice a little rough with sleep.

“Mm, sort of,” Dick replied, in a mumble.

Slade let out of a soft puff of amused breath, and it was warm against his neck and ears. It was… Pleasant, and part of his brain was urging him to angle his hips, press back against Slade. He had a hard time ignoring the urge, if he was honest. It would be so easy, and it wasn’t like Slade wouldn’t let him down gently if he didn’t want to…

He bit his lip, stretching out his legs a little before shifting his hips back and curling a bit again. And he knew the feeling of Slade half-hard against him was because of the time, and how long he’d probably been awake―which was to say not very long―, but it still shot a thrill through him. He took a breath and then, very deliberately, rubbed up against him.

Slade squeezed him, letting out a soft breath.

When he did it again, Slade shifted―not away, thank God, but not exactly into his movements either. And the soft whine that left him made him feel pathetic, so he turned his face into the pillow.

Slade let out another breath, bordering on a soft sigh, “You’re sure?”

Dick wanted to ask if he really thought he’d be doing this if he _wasn’t_ sure, if he really thought he’d just jump into it feeling _un_ sure, but… He did have a history of jumping into things without a plan and coming up with one on the fly. He had a history of learning and trying new things without any real preparation for it. It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch for him to be throwing himself into this right now without being absolutely sure he wanted to do it.

So he laughed, a little, and rubbed up against Slade again, getting him to draw in a breath this time, “‘M sure.” He said, turning his face slightly back out of the pillow, “We don’t gotta, but… I want to.”

There was a brief pause, and then Slade was shifting, hand coming up to grip his hip instead of hold him against him. He squeezed, softly, uttering, “I get the strangest feeling you’d cum just as easily from rubbing yourself against my cock as you would if I fucked you.”

Dick felt himself turn red from the plain words, but it wasn’t like he was _wrong,_ “I’m a _little_ touch starved,” He managed, “So if you dug your fingers into my thighs too hard I’d probably cum from that by itself, so…”

It startled a laugh out of Slade, and he tucked his face into Dick’s neck.

But, tellingly, he shifted his hips against him. Dick sighed, happily, and shifted back in turn.

And it went like that, for a little while. Slade rubbed up against him and he went with every movement eagerly… But not _too_ eagerly. At least he hoped not.

Not that he was sure if it mattered how eager he came across, because he’d already outed himself by saying he wanted this and joking with Slade about how easy it would be to make him cum.

Oh.

Oh, jeez.

He’d cracked a sex joke at Slade and Slade _laughed._

It almost made him dizzy.

But not as dizzy as Slade pulling back a little and holding his hip still as he did made him. Not as dizzy as Slade uttering, “I have an idea,” made him.

“Yeah?” He asked, in return to the assertion.

“Take your boxers off,” Slade said, simply, as he moved away from him.

Dick was embarrassed with himself for how quickly he moved to comply. But it wasn’t like it would matter in the end.

He heard a drawer opening, and he felt himself go red in the face again even as he settled back down from kicking his boxers off the bed.

Fingers dug gently into one of his thighs as the bed shifted, and Slade lifted that leg and half-shifted him onto his back. And Dick found himself looking at Slade’s face, which had his cheeks heating more. Slade looked… Almost hungry. His eye was lidded, pupil huge, mouth set firm as he settled into his new spot.

His eye flicked up to Dick’s face, and Dick tried for a smile… It probably came out fairly meek and fully embarrassed.

Slade’s lips twitched.

“Might be cold,” He warned, and that was pretty much all the warning Dick got before he was popping the cap on a bottle of lube and squirting it right onto the inside of his thigh.

Oh.

 _Oh,_ he was going to fuck his thighs.

Dick felt himself go completely red in the face, and his cock twitched at the mental image. Slade, thankfully, did not comment on either reaction. He just spread the lube over the plush skin of his thighs with a mild sort of reverence. Paused, briefly, just to squeeze one of them.

“So very soft, when you relax,” He said, lips quirking up, “You could probably crush my head with these, though.”

“Tim’s got a video of me crushing a watermelon with them, if you’re into that,” Dick found himself replying.

It wrenched a chuckle from Slade, who laid his leg back onto the other, successfully shifting him back onto his side in the process with little more than a nudge. The feeling of his thighs, slippery against each other and _wet,_ made him think about what was soon to come and…

Oh boy.

He hadn’t at all thought through how overwhelming this was probably going to be.

Oh well. If he came in ten seconds, he came in ten seconds. If he cried, he cried.

He’d live.

He squeezed his eyes shut at the feeling and sound of Slade discarding his own pants.

And then Slade was pressing in carefully between his thighs, sliding easily even as he tugged him gently back against his chest. And by all means it wasn’t anything particularly arousing to feel, or _shouldn’t have been,_ at least, but it still had Dick making a soft noise. And that was, apparently, all it took for Slade to decide he was all-in on this. He gripped him and Dick gripped his arm and the pillow under his head, and with another small noise from Dick, Slade was beginning to shift his hips.

The drag of him between Dick’s thighs was surprisingly pleasant―to date, Dick hadn’t actually done this before. Everyone he’d fallen into bed with had pretty much gone straight to the main event, especially the ones he bottomed to. He wasn’t expecting Slade sitting hard and heavy between his thighs to get him the way it did. It was overwhelming already in the _best possible way,_ and he carefully shifted his legs to squeeze a little tighter around Slade’s cock.

Slade grunted, quietly, but didn’t falter.

And then he was shifting up a little higher between his legs and sliding up against the underside of his cock, and if the slide of him between his legs hadn’t already been overwhelming, this would have been. Dick moaned quietly, _weakly,_ and managed to peek his eyes open as he bit his lip and let himself look downward. If this was going to be overwhelming, he wanted it to be overwhelming for every good reason that it could be.

And, yeah, seeing Slade’s cock peeking out from between his thighs before being swallowed back up by them was _pretty fucking overwhelming._ He heard himself whine, squeezing Slade’s arm, and Slade chuckled.

“Responsive, aren’t you?” He teased, gently.

“Told you I―” Dick shuddered, “Told you I was touch-starved.”

“Oh, yes, you did.” Slade agreed, “But it’s still interesting to see how it affects you. If I weren’t already busy fucking these pretty thighs I’d be seeing how many times I had to bite them before you came.”

Dick whined, imagining how that would look, and squeezed his eyes shut again with a soft sigh of the older’s name.

He twitched between his legs.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Slade uttered into his ear, “But I don’t think I’d mind if it was you.”

“What, my thighs feel that nice?” Dick tried to tease, and at least he managed the tone.

Slade chuckled. “Maybe they do.” Then, lowly, voice suddenly very rough, “Now be a good boy and watch while I use them.”

Dick couldn’t have said no even if he wanted to.

He peeked his eyes back open, caught sight of Slade watching his face hungrily, and felt himself go red once more as he directed his own gaze downward. He must have made a noise when he saw that overwhelming sight again, because Slade chuckled again.

“Good boy.” Slade whispered, and he felt himself shiver. Hard.

And he watched, gasping and whimpering, as Slade more or less took his pleasure―he’d have been more annoyed with that if it wasn’t so enjoyable to watch, and if he wasn’t totally into having his thighs used like a fleshlight. But Slade came before he did, spurting between his thighs and making hell of a mess while Dick whined at the sight and at the idea that Slade might just pull back now and have him finish himself off.

He knew he probably wouldn’t, but…

Before he could think on it too hard, Slade was prying his hand away from his chest and out of his grasp, wrapping it around his cock, and with a few quick tugs he had Dick arching against him as he came as well.

“Pretty little thing,” He mumbled, pressing his lips to Dick’s temple, “So good for me.”

He remained where he was until Dick’s breathing returned more or less to normal, at which point he slowly pulled out from between his thighs. Dick let him, shifting his legs apart and slowly rolling onto his back as Slade pulled away. He remained there while Slade quickly cleaned them both up, waiting until the tissues had been tossed away to reach up and hook an arm around the back of Slade’s neck and draw him down into a kiss.

Slade didn’t so much as hesitate to kiss him back this time, and you know what? Dick had almost forgotten what he was mad about in the first place. Maybe he was just pent up, maybe he’d just needed someone else to be in control for a while… Whatever. Point was he felt a _lot_ calmer now.

“I don’t suppose I should expect that _every_ morning that you’re here?” Slade probed, half-smiling, after he pulled back.

“I mean,” Dick chuckled, cheeks tinging red again, “I wouldn’t mind if that _did_ happen every morning.”

Slade chuckled in return. “Brat,” He commented, fondly, before getting up, “Get dressed, I’ll make breakfast.”

“Yessir,” Dick agreed, rolling off the bed and pulling on his boxers and his pants.

While Slade cooked, he checked his phone.

Nothing new from Bruce since nearing midnight last night, nothing from Tim or Jay either, and thankfully nothing new from Damian. Still, he probably should reply to the kid, even if it was just to tell him not to text him again.

With a little distance from the situation and a good orgasm in him, he felt less inclined to be mean to him, and he did understand that a lot of his bullshit was a result of how he was raised but… Hm. He’d have to try for ‘cold and annoyed’ instead of ‘angry that you even exist’.

_NW: Maybe if your Father would stop dumping his responsibilities on me, assuming I’m going to do everything he asks no matter how time consuming and annoying it is, and accepted “no” as an answer instead of throwing a fit when I tell him no, I wouldn’t have to get hostile._

_NW: I genuinely could not care less if you’re “glad” to know I have a spine. I don’t exist to please Bruce and I most certainly do not exist to please you, boy._

“Texting your newest little brother?” Slade asked, very calmly.

“I am related to this boy by law and by law alone and I refuse to acknowledge him as part of my family.” Dick responded, maybe with too much irritation.

Slade merely chuckled, setting a plate of food in front of him. “You’ll come around, little Robin. I’m sure he’ll prove to be a valuable addition, if nothing else.”

Slade had a point, of course―he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge Jason at first, either, or Tim. He’d felt betrayed by their very existence much in the same way he felt betrayed by Damian’s. Given time, he’d probably learn to like the kid or at least come to an understanding with him. But he was going to take the time he had to be angry while he still had it. Lord knew by the time he’d calmed down and finally spoken to Bruce he’d have to give up all that bluster and anger for the sake of everything working out.

He sighed, and he ate breakfast with Slade, and he may have ended up on his knees a few hours later with Slade’s cock down his throat.

* * *

He had three hickeys on his neck, and seven more on the inside of his thighs, and one nasty-looking one over his ribs, two bruises in the shape of Slade’s teeth on his ass, and dark circles under his eyes by the time he finally headed back to his apartment nearly a week after his fight with Bruce.

For all the hickeys and bruises, he and Slade hadn’t actually done terribly much―certainly hadn’t actually had sex. But he wasn’t complaining, because even if the bite marks on his butt were sore, at least he wasn’t limping from getting his brains fucked out by a super soldier. He did _not_ want to walk into a discussion with Bruce unable to walk straight. It was bad enough that he’d be walking into one tomorrow with two very visible hickeys and one that was slightly less visible.

When he emerged into his apartment, he was surprised to find Tim, Jason, and Roy all spread out on his living room floor.

Tim was on his feet, and then on _him,_ in an instant.

“H-hey, baby bird!” He laughed, catching the teen in a tight hug.

“I knew you were okay, but it’s good to see you in person to confirm,” Tim laughed in return, weakly, “You’ve been with you-know-who the whole time?” He asked as he pulled back.

“Sure have,” Dick tried to smile, but found himself laying a hand over one of his hickeys when Tim’s eyes caught on it and went wide, “Please don’t say anything, I’ll explain as long as you don’t scream.”

Tim gave a tight nod, eyes huge.

“Explain what?” Jason asked, getting up from the floor and giving him a good looking-at.

“Oh, Christ, have you been boning this whole time?” Roy asked, sounding excited as he stood.

Dick scrunched up his face a little before sighing out a laugh. “Jesus, one thing at a time, okay?” And when his brothers and one-time friend just stared at him―Jason and Roy with raised brows, Tim with something bordering on panic―, he sighed and shooed them off toward his couch, “Let me toss my bag in my room, but trust me when I say you’re gonna want to sit down.”

And then, with that done, he folded himself into his chair and said, “Okay, so, long story short, I was with Deathstroke and _no,_ I didn’t spend the whole week boning but I _did_ get my world rocked a couple of times. Questions?”

“... By Deathstroke?” Tim asked, voice cracking.

Jason and Roy seemed to still be processing, so Dick just sort of gave him a sheepish grin.

“I― Did you―”

“No, but he _did_ fuck my thighs and bite me on my ass.” Saying it so plainly to Tim, who went very red in the face and spluttered for a response, wasn’t as nerve-wracking as it probably should have been. Jason and Roy’s stunned expressions even made him feel a little proud of himself, really. “It was a pleasant break from being around Bruce.”

“I―” Tim started, “Uh, you’re... “ He seemed frustrated as he dragged a hand over his face and through his hair, “You know what you’re doing, right? You’re not in over your head or anything?”

“Good question,” Roy managed, blinking wide eyes and shaking his head, “Cuz I’m a lil concerned, frankly.”

“Yeah, so the fuck am I.” Jason frowned, _“Deathstroke?”_

“Please,” Dick snorted, “I’m in more danger from _you three_ than I am from _Slade._ Even if the bottom line is that he’s keeping me alive and humoring me on the off-chance I’ll take him up on his offer and work for him, he likes me too much to do anything to me.”

“... He wants you to work for him?” Tim asked, hesitantly.

“Has for a while.” Dick shrugged, “I’ve been tempted a few times, but I still have limits. Is that the part we’re focusing on? I can work with that.”

“I mean, I…” Tim looked away, face red, “I trust you? So if you’re boning Slade that’s… Whatever? I guess? I mean Bruce fucked _Talia al-Ghul_ and none of us are holding that against him except where the little demon brat is concerned, so you and Slade is… Eh. But him wanting you to work for him is like, prime reason for him to humor you until you decide your limits aren’t gonna keep you from getting boned.”

It wrenched a snort from Dick, and from Jason and Roy as well―though they both looked a little taken-aback by the casual f-bomb drop from Tim. Dick had known him long enough not to be surprised when one or two slipped out.

“I appreciate the concern, baby bird, I _do,_ but I know what I’m doing. Promise.” He smiled, “He’s not going to ask me again. The spot’s always open if I want it, but that’s on me.” A snort as he looked away, “And if he’s humoring me in hopes I decide my limits aren’t gonna stop me, he’s got another thing coming cuz I am the _king_ of cock-blocking myself when I think it might be getting out of hand.”

“If you say so,” Tim conceded, easily, “Just be careful.”

“I will be,” Dick assured him, looking back to Jason and Roy, who looked vaguely unconvinced, “And _you two_ can stop giving me that look.” When both recoiled, looking a little sheepish, he continued, “You don’t have a whole lot of room to judge me on this, I’m afraid, but honestly I promise there’s nothing to worry about.”

They shared a look, wincing at the light jab, but ultimately both of them nodded.

“... I don’t think I need to mention that word of this shouldn’t reach Bruce?”

“Lips are sealed,” Tim promised.

“Like I’d tell Bruce anyway.” Jason snorted.

“I talk to like four people, dude,” Roy raised his hands in surrender.

“And you send dick pics to enough of them that I’m not worried about _you_ telling Bruce.”

Roy went red, “I apologized!”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t still rib you for it, red.”

And the rest of the day more or less was… Comfortable. He learned, eventually, that these three had been sitting here waiting for him to return pretty much since Bruce left, and the old man was very unhappy about it. Apparently, he felt like he was being teamed up against.

Shame.

It was nice, though, knowing he had his brothers on his side. And, shockingly enough, that included the newest little demon brat.

That text had been an adventure to receive―he’d expected more passive aggression in response to his own, but no.

No.

_DB: Of course, I didn’t imagine it would mean much. It was merely a comment. However, in light of this information I must say I agree with you. Father should handle his own responsibilities. He is old enough and experienced enough to be able to do so._

And sharing that with the other three had their brows lifting. Even Jason seemed surprised, although not unpleasantly.

“Ha, I knew the demon brat had a brain in there somewhere with all that combat experience,” He snorted, “Bet he’s been givin’ Bruce _Hell_ for ya, Dickie.”

“If he has, I’ll formally rescind my assertion that I refuse to acknowledge him as a family member.” Dick joked, “Give him my own dumb nickname for him and everything.”

“Good God,” Tim groaned, theatrically, “Not the return of the nicknames… I almost feel sorry for the demon brat.”

“I’m gonna call him Mini Bat,” Dick decided.

“God help that boy,” Roy said, faking mournfulness.

“Even God can’t protect him from my dumb nicknames.”

“A sad truth, given you still haven’t stopped calling me Little Wing even though I’m half a foot taller than you are and could bench press you one-handed.” Snorted Jason.

“You’re always gonna be Little Wing to me,” He polished his nails on the neck of his shirt, “You’re half a foot taller but you’re still half a decade younger. You’re not even legal drinking age yet…” He paused, squinting at him appraisingly, “... Not that I imagine it stops you.”

Jason didn’t so much as have the grace to look sheepish at that, merely grinning at him.

And for some reason, that grin? It send a stab of something warm and _violent_ through Dick’s chest. It took him a moment to realize he was feeling _protective_ again.

He hadn’t felt protective of Jason since he’d come back―he could take care of himself, wouldn’t take kindly to any outright protectiveness anyway, and Dick had sort of been squishing all of his feelings for Jason down up until this point in order to avoid disappointing himself when Jason inevitably gave him an angry side-eye about it… Or something worse.

But there it was, burning hot and out of control the way it had before Jason died even if they hadn’t really gotten along very well at the time.

He found himself laughing, shaking his head. “Of course.” He said, then, to Tim, “I’ll let it slide with him because at least he’s older than when I started, but if I find out _you’re_ drinking I’m gonna start stalking you.”

Somewhat taken aback, Tim spluttered something about his only addiction being caffeine and him having no intentions of picking another one up, and Dick could only laugh again. And, thankfully, the comment about how early he’d started drinking, though no age had been specified, still went completely unquestioned as the four of them continued talking well into the evening.

It felt nice.


End file.
